Star Trek Final Hour
by Sci-Fi Nerd
Summary: Six months have passed since Voyager's return, and Starfleet is on the brink of a civil war. In the midst of this crisis, a new breed of Borg appears, and a shadowy queen is revealed...
1. One

I dislike author's notes as a principle, but as always, I have to make the usual statements.

This is a story set shortly after the end of the _Voyager_ television series. Starfleet is considering mothballing _Voyager_, but a crisis takes that choice out of their hands and forces _Voyager_'s former crew to get accustomed to a new ship and a new threat.

As always, I do not own any characters here present excepting the ones I have made up in my own head. The entire senior staff of _Voyager_ and any others (no spoiled surprises) that may appear are the property of whichever Gene Roddenberry partner owns them right now. I make no profit off of this.

Enjoy. cue _Voyager_ theme (a vastly superior piece of music to DS9's theme, by the way)

**Star Trek: Final Hour**

_Official Starfleet Command Log_

_Admiral Kathryn Janeway._

_We had hoped that the schism within the Council would solve itself by the democratic processes that have proved the Federation's lifeline in the past. However, it now appears that a civil war is about to break loose._

_The Klingons still are fuming over what they perceive as biases in a Federation-negotiated treaty with the Cardassians, and it strikes me that this may have added fuel to the anti-peace activists who have gained a tenuous majority in the Counci. The recent wars with Cardassia and the Dominion may have helped to contribute to this. We have also not heard anything of the Borg for six months since their transwarp nexus in the Delta Quadrant was destroyed. This worries me._

_I fear the Federation is on the brink of a major catastrophe…_

Admiral Kathryn Janeway looked up as the door chime rang once, hollowly, inside her roomy offices on the thirtieth floor of Starfleet Headquarters. Since her appointment to the Borg Tactical Response office as chief officer sixth months ago, immediately after _Voyager_'s return to Earth, she had grown accustomed to working in near-isolation, her only links to the outside world being the Starfleet/Council sessions and her own staff. Her door did not accept many intrusions.

"Come," she said finally, flicking off the terminal she'd been studying for the past hour, relieved for any break in the monotonous routine. Her coffee sat more than half-full in front of her, but she didn't reach for it. It was cold.

The door hissed open quietly, and a broad, dark man strode purposefully into her office, his calm, introverted face marked with a tattoo on the left side of his temple and cheekbone. His smile was small, but warmth filled his expression now that he stood inside her office.

Kathryn's face broke into a wide smile. "Captain Chakotay," she said warmly, rising from her seat behind the massive desk Starfleet had forced upon her. "It's good to see you."

The Amerindian officer returned her smile with a brief one of his own, startling in its warmth and sincerity. "It's good to see you, too, Kathryn." He glanced at the nameplate on her desk, and his smile twitched. "Or I should say, _Admiral_."

Kathryn sank back down with a groan, rubbing her eyes with her fingers. "Please, Chakotay," she sighed. "I get enough of that from the officers in my own department who think I'm a legend that can wave my hand and wipe the Borg from the quadrant. I don't need it from old friends."

Chakotay acknowledged that with a nod, and looked questioningly at the seat in front of Kathryn's desk.

"Please," she told him.

Once he had seated himself, Chakotay leaned forward, his manner shifting towards seriousness. "Admiral," he said hesitantly, and Kathryn instantly knew that something was wrong. "I… I've been offered the command of the _U.S.S. Wolf 359_."

Kathryn blinked in surprise, and then grinned at her former first officer. "Congratulations, Captain," she said formally, and then noticed his still-frowning face. "You aren't going to deny the position, are you?"

Chakotay fidgeted slightly. "Admiral, Starfleet refuses to let _Voyager_ out of spacedock. They won't let me command her."

Another problem. "I know, Chakotay," Kathryn sighed again. "I've been stalling Starfleet on the issue of _Voyager_ for four months. After standard repairs were finished, they wanted to remove unneeded modifications and restore her to Starfleet specs."

Chakotay's face darkened. "That would cripple _Voyager_."

Kathryn barked a short laugh. "Captain, you must remember that _Voyager_ is not at all the same ship that left to track down the Maquis in the Badlands seven years ago. We've had modifications to our engines that made us faster, weapons that make us one of the strongest starships in the quadrant, and defenses that match anything any vessel in the known galaxy can put up."

She buried her chin in her hands. "_Voyager_ is a weapon, Chakotay, a very powerful one. Starfleet doesn't want to risk tensions by keeping it as such a weapon."

Chakotay chuckled grimly. "If those anti-peace activists on the Council have their way, they won't care about risking tensions. There'll be a war anyways."

"We have to hope they don't get their way, Chakotay," Kathryn said to him firmly. "I don't want to see _Voyager_ mothballed anymore than you do, but I also don't want it to be the instrument of destruction which turns the Federation into an Empire."

Chakotay looked away. "I know Admiral, it's just…" he looked back at her. "For seven years, that ship became my life, my home, my friend. That ship was our universe, our connection to home." He straightened his shoulders. "I don't want to command any other vessel. I'm turning down command of the _Wolf 359_."

Kathryn gave him a sad little smile. "All right, Chakotay," she said tiredly. "I'll see what I can do about _Voyager_."

"Thanks, Admiral," Chakotay said as he left.

Kathryn leaned back in her chair and stared at the ceiling. _Some days,_ she thought, _being an Admiral is worse than fighting the Borg or Species 8472._

The bridge of the _U.S.S. Odin_ was larger than those of most Starfleet vessels. Being a _Sovereign_-class cruiser, of course, everything about it was larger than most other starships. Even the chair the captain customarily sat in seemed grand and imposing, illuminated in a dim spotlight.

The captain was not on duty at the moment, however. It was 0124 hours, and the night shift, composed of two ensigns and Lieutenant Commander Dawson, were the only occupants of the bridge. Illumination was dim, as was customary for night shift, and the various glows of bridge consoles blinked placidly in the gloom.

A soft hooting brought Dawson up from the center chair with a flash in his eye, all thought of napping gone from his mind. For once, something might actually happen on the graveyard shift.

"Ensign Pirtri?" he called out to the younger of the two human men sitting at conn and helm positions, attempting to look imposing, standing with feet spread just behind them. "What is it?"

"Sensors are unsure, sir," Pirtri called back, tapping at his console. "A ship about half of our mass just appeared in the area. Method of entry, unknown. Type, unknown."

"Method of entry unknown?" Dawson asked with a derisive snort. "What does that mean?"

"Entrance into sensor range was inconsistent with normal warp drive patterns, sir," Pirtri said in confusion, tapping his console. His movements were growing more erratic with fear. "Object is moving toward our position at approximately 1.5 times our greatest impulse speed."

"Helm," Dawson ordered the other ensign, his own bad feelings beginning to percolate in his belly. "Bring us about; minimum target profile, standard bogey contact procedure." By this, Dawson referred to the wisdom of dealing with possibly hostile intruders by presenting low target profiles and full defenses ready to be unleashed. The policy had become enforced by Starfleet since the recent Cardassian and Dominion wars.

It was, thought Dawson, a sad development. The Federation, so eager to make peace, had been forced to a military posture and the preparation for aggression each time a new race appeared out of nowhere.

Dawson peered at the tiny blip on the viewscreen, just visible amongst the diamond dots of the constellations. "Mr. Pirtri, enhance magnification to factor 5."

"Done, sir," Pirtri said, hitting another command, and the image blinked into full clarity.

The image that appeared was inconsistent with any ship type Dawson had ever seen. The most apt description he could think of was a shark swimming the oceans of Earth. The long, torpedo-shaped body was dotted by multiple fins, and here and there criss-cross patterns of dark metal and circuitry emerged from what almost appeared to be yellowish flesh. It looked utterly calm and predatory. Menace hung about it like a cloak.

Unasked for, Pirtri reported, "Ship has a confusing composition, sir. Sensors register both life signs as well as computer activity. The ship itself registers as a life form on our sensors." Dawson began to smell fear sweat on the air, and wondered which one of them, or if all three, was giving it off.

"What kind of race would… grow… living ships?" Dawson wondered aloud.

He was saved the dilemma of further wondering when a voice pulsed over the speakers in the bridge. It was layered on multiple levels, and, though emotionless, chilled Dawson's blood as though it were liquid nitrogen.

"We are the Borg. You will be assimilated. Resistance is futile. Your technological and biological distinctiveness will be added to our own perfection. You will service us."

"Evasive manoeuvres, now!" Dawson snapped at the helmsman, and darted back to the Tactical station, grabbing at railings to prevent falling if the ship was hit. He tapped his communicator as he brought weapons online. "All hands, this is Lieutenant Commander Dawson! We are under attack by an unknown type of Borg vessel! All hands to battle stations!" He tapped off his communicator. "Helm, plot a course out of here, now!"

The helmsman's affirmation was cut off by a massive impact as an golden energy beam crashed against the _Odin_'s shields. Sparks sprayed from the console behind Dawson, and he almost whistled in admiration. His console showed shields at 60 after one hit.

"Get us out of here!" he bellowed, bringing the phasers' targeting systems online and adjusting them to aim at the Borg vessel. Another blast rocked the ship, and he frantically located the random frequencies phaser protocol used when in combat against Borg ships.

He fired, and the phaser beams stabbed against the Borg's hull, scarring the tissue slightly. Recalibrating the frequencies, he adjust aim, praying that he could hit something vital. He fired again, but this time the beams scattered against the shields of the vessel.

"Son of a bitch," Dawson said thickly. "They've adapted." A third shot shook the bridge, and all the lights went out. An explosion blasted through the conn station and took half of Ensign Pirtri's body with it. Dawson fell to the floor and forced himself to stand, though he felt like shards of glass were embedded in his knee, and could feel blood on his forehead. Smoke began to drift, and he coughed roughly.

"Helm!" he shouted, and then coughed again. "I need warp drive, now!"

"Trying, Commander," the ensign yelled back, panic in his voice. "They're trying to pin us with a holding beam, sir!"

Dawson's eyes went wide. He paged down the list of commands at the tactical station and scanned for the self-destruct.

There it was! He punched for an automatic detonation, and cursed loudly when the computer informed him that he would need a vocal confirmation by the captain before detonating. He should have remembered that.

Just then, Captain Larson and Commander Bretsken came charging out of the bridge turbolift, both in uniform and sweat rings decorating their uniforms.

"Status, commander?" Larson yelled as he surveyed the damage and ran for his center chair. Bretsken went to the rear consoles and began scanning damage reports throughout the ship, wincing at the numbers of red sections. He turned to report on the situation to the other officers and was cut off, rather literally, by another hit that tore metal from the wall and cut him in two.

"They're trying to board, Captain!" Dawson informed Larson, his own voice rising in panic. "We need to set autodestruct for immediate detonation!"

Larson nodded quickly to himself, moving back to help Dawson. "Did you manage to get a message to Starfleet?"

Mentally Dawson kicked himself, and he shook his head in chagrin. Any further conversation was cut off by the sudden appearance of four Borg drones equidistant around the circumference of the bridge.

Calmly, the computer reminded Dawson that the Captain needed to give final confirmation of destruction order, or else it would be terminated in fifteen seconds.

"Do it!" Dawson screamed. The Borg nearest the helm slashed with assimilation tendrils, and the luckless ensign slumped forward with a scream as the demonic devices plunged through his eye socket into his brain, already beginning their metamorphic job.

Captain Larson calculated it would take the remaining Borg only about four seconds to complete his and Dawson's assimilation. The ship would follow soon after.

"Computer!" he ordered. "Authorize immediate self-destruct, code Larson two beta five omega!" The Borg drones stepped forward.

"Confirmed," the computer said happily as it overloaded the antimatter-matter buffer in the warp core.

The spacedock was dim, having no ships currently needing repairs. It had the feeling of insubstantiality, of loneliness. Hardly any of the crew or engineers were on duty, so that the only occupants tended to be clustered about the control centers deep within the station.

That was perfectly alright with Admiral Burke. The footfalls of himself and his party of seven well-trained commandos barely resounded in the gaping, abandoned metal corridors of the spacedock. Each one of them had been trained to perfection over the past three months for this very duty.

Those peace-loving, alien-hugging idiots on the Council had been put up with for long enough. Now it was time for the _real_ leaders of the Federation to take over things.

Burke glanced at his wrist chronometer. 0245 hours. Exactly twenty minutes left for him to get to _Voyager_ and get her moving before the fun started.

The corridor suddenly split in front of his party, but they took the left-hand branch unconcernedly. They knew exactly where they were going.

It took them another four minutes to reach the connecting tube between the hull of the mysterious _Voyager_ and the inner workings of the station. Due to Starfleet impoundment orders, the ship had remained here, pristine and untouched, for six months. Burke's only liking of Admiral Kathryn Janeway stemmed from her adamant refusal to allow Starfleet to disassemble and reconfigure _Voyager_ 'up to standard'.

Another minute passed in silence as the third commando down the line knelt at the electronic locks of the outer airlocks and worked frantically, but with efficiency, at the keypad. Sure enough, the massive door wrenched itself aside soon after, and the eight Starfleet operatives stepped onto _Voyager_.

"Tursan, Janes," Burke rasped, his voice echoing oddly in the empty ship's corridors, "go to Engineering. Get the warp core online." The two commandos saluted and moved off quickly.

Fourteen minutes left.

"Everyone else, let's get going," Burke ordered.

Burke and the five remaining commandos made it to the bridge with ten minutes left on the clock. It was dark and all the consoles were dead.

Burke tapped his communicator. "Engineering? I need power."

"Just a second, Admiral," Tursan's voice came back tinnily. "Almost…"

Then a hum surged through the ship and the bridge lit up dully, with only the red alert battle illumination glowing over the pristine controls. Burke smiled and sat in the center chair with a feeling of relish.

"Let's get this ship moving."

Down on Earth, the chronometers clicked down to 0305.


	2. Two

Thanks to Daydream Omega for submitting a review! Nice to know you enjoyed it!

note: there are no chapter numbers in the story itself, as Iam trying to portray this as a single 'movie-like' event.

****

**Star Trek: Final Hour**

When the Doctor awoke himself after the main computer informed (per regulations) all programs that _Voyager_ was once again underway, he immediately felt annoyed with Admiral Janeway. It wasn't like her to not even see him anytime she came on board, and certainly unusual before starting out on another mission. On second thought, it was unusual that the computer had not informed him someone was coming on board. He was going to have words with her _and_ the main computer both.

He strode over to his desk and picked up the mobile holo-emitter, affixing it to his own matrix and preparing himself to give Admiral Janeway a piece of his mind. He requested that the computer give him the current location of Admiral Janeway.

"Admiral Janeway is not on board _Voyager_," it calmly replied.

"What?" He felt annoyed. Who was commanding then? "Where is Captain Chakotay?"

"Captain Chakotay is not on board _Voyager_," it told him.

Alarm began to filter into his thoughts. "Lieutenant Paris, Lieutenant Torres, or Ensi-Lieutenant Kim?"

"Lieutenants Paris, Torres, and Kim are not on board _Voyager_," the computer said quite unconcernedly.

"What crew does _Voyager_ currently carry?" the Doctor asked, confused and beginning to be more than a little nervous. Certainly they would not be on automatic pilot; a ship of this power and advancement would not be entrusted to simple computers.

"Current crew: 7. 4 males, 3 females."

"Names and ranks, please," the Doctor sighed. Computers were so awkward to deal with, unlike himself. They had no originality.

"Admiral James Burke, Commander Elizabeth Shelby, Lieutenant John Malcolm, Lieutenant Price Tursan, Lieutenant Beth Janes, Lieutenant Alysar Kuymar, and Lieutenant Dr'doth P'cren."

The Doctor frowned. He was not familiar with any of the names except Commander Shelby. She had been a member of the Borg Tactical Response Office Admiral Janeway now commanded. "Purpose of crew transfer?"

"No scheduled crew transfer details."

"Time of boarding?"

"Unknown."

This was getting worse and worse! "What is _Voyager_'s current location?" the Doctor asked, beginning to pace as he did so.

"Outer Earth orbit, coordinates 65 west, 100 north, geostationary orbit."

"Are there any other Starfleet vessels in the vicinity?" The Doctor felt himself growing more and more concerned by the second. This was all wrong.

"_U.S.S. Wolf 359_, _Galaxy_-class; _U.S.S. Berlin_, _Steamrunner_-class; _U.S.S. Adjudicator_, _Akira_-class; _U.S.S. Destiny_, _Sovereign_-class; _U.S.S. Coeur de Gloire_, _Akira_-class." The Doctor nodded absentmindedly. "Updating… no contact now with _U.S.S. Wolf 359, Galaxy_-class."

The Doctor blinked several times in shock. "Reason for termination of contact?"

"Destruction of _U.S.S. Wolf 359_."

"How?" He barely got the single word out.

"Internal warp core breach."

The Doctor winced. "Caused by what?"

"Transphasic torpedo hit to lower decks."

The Doctor stopped dead in his reflexive pacing. "Repeat, computer."

"Transphasic torpedo hit to lower decks."

"_Voyager_ fired on _Wolf 359_?" He was incredulous.

"Confirmed."

A Starfleet admiral, attacking other Starfleet vessels with the most advanced ship in the quadrant? How did that happen? "Was the torpedo fired intentionally?" He knew the question was stupid as soon as he asked it.

"Unable to determine."

"Yes, yes," the Doctor said in frustration. What was he to do now? He was a prisoner of a ship that was attacking other Starfleet vessels. What if the remaining ships decided to destroy _Voyager_?

He felt a shiver pass through his holo-matrix. Then they would engage _Voyager_, and be quickly dispatched by the deadly transphasic torpedo armaments that the future Admiral Janeway had equipped _Voyager_ with. And with Borg-enhanced armor plating the outer hull, _Voyager_ would be untouchable.

All of a sudden, the door to sickbay hissed open, and an Andorian female strode in with a phaser rifle, scanning the area cautiously. She saw the Doctor standing paralyzed in his office, and directed the point of the weapon at him. The Doctor raised his hands in surrender.

Now he was in trouble.

* * *

As the final echoes of electronic shrieks caused by the obliteration of the _U.S.S. Wolf 359_ died off from the communications system, Admiral Burke permitted himself a thin smile. It felt good to sit in the center seat of the most powerful vessel in this quarter of the galaxy. Why, he might even be able to 'coax' the other members of the Council into giving him the reins of power someday.

The smile broadened into something very predatory. Enough time for that after these peace-loving dregs of the Federation had been cleared up.

Commander Shelby straightened from her position at Tactical. "Admiral, we have the _U.S.S. Coeur de Gloire _vectoring on our position, requesting clarification of our intentions." Her voice was only just barely calm enough to pass Burke's quick judgment of her conscience. She was not the most ardent of his supporters, but her experience with the Borg was necessary to his plan. She had also been quickly convinced that the Federation was corrupt after the disasters during the Klingon-Cardassian negotiations.

"Well, Commander, I suggest that you explain their choices to them."

Shelby nodded, then glanced at her board. "Sir, another ship, coming up fast! It's-"

A blast rocked _Voyager_, and the illumination dimmed slightly before returning to former levels. Burke cursed loudly, and hoped that Starfleet's analysis of this vessel had been as correct as it seemed. If Janeway had lied to them…

"No damage, Captain," Shelby told him, wiping a lock of blond hair thick with sweat. Burke released a held breath. "The _Destiny_ is ordering us to stand down and surrender to be brought to trial."

Burke smiled more broadly this time. "Tell them how mistaken they are, Commander, before firing."

"Sir?" Shelby sounded surprised, as if she really expected him to accept them into their ranks after attacking his flagship! The idea was ludicrous.

"Fire, Commander." Burke's voice held veiled threat.

"As ordered, sir," Shelby said, and stabbed at her controls.

A shudder went through the deck as one of the magnificent transphasic torpedoes jetted outwards towards the _Sovereign_-class starship, ignoring the shields as if they were not there and plunging straight into the forward saucer section. A white flower of destruction bloomed outwards, splitting the ship in two before the warp core detonated in a red orgy of destruction.

Lieutenant Kuymar, the Betazoid male at Ops, reported, "The _Couer de Gloire_ is transmitting a message of surrender, sir."

"Excellent." Burke smiled again. It felt so good when your plans turned out the way you wanted them to.

His communicator chirped suddenly, and he stifled a sigh of annoyance. That would be Tursan, Janes, or possibly P'cren. Any of them could have important information. He tapped it.

"Admiral Burke."

"Admiral, this is Lieutenant P'cren, sir," the tinny voice sounded from the small device. "We may have a slight problem, sir."

"Explain yourself," Burke said warningly. Nothing could go wrong now. They had to have everything running smoothly.

"Sir, the EMH is still on board this ship."

Burke almost laughed in relief. "That is not of concern, Lieutenant," he told the Andorian commando. "Deactivate him and leave."

"Sir, he has a mobile emitter."

Burked contemplated that fact for several seconds. It would not do to have a holographic enemy wandering around the ship, especially given its rapport with the computer. He decided the potential benefits of having a mobile holographic emitter were too small compared to the harm if the EMH was accidentally activated and found the thing again.

"Destroy it, and then deactivate him, Lieutenant."

Shelby became agitated again. "The _U.S.S. Berlin_ is moving towards us, Admiral. Weapons charges are building."

Admiral Burke turned back to the matter at hand. "Explain their options Commander," he ordered. "If they fire on us… well, you know what to do."

* * *

The Queen raised her head from her regeneration cycle, stepping forward with a grace her mindless drone children lacked. Her mechanically clad form was slimmer, more practical, than the awkward circuits and battle gear that her subordinates were adorned with.

The number of children that had suddenly been cut off from the Collective displeased the Queen. Though the war with Species 8472 had been aborted by both sides after its brief return to vicious fury, there were still ongoing casualties. The Lost stole them; the Queen knew they did. And yet, the Lost being part of her, yet severed, she had not the heart to extinguish them completely. Someday, it would likely come to a question of survival, and then she would be forced to, but until then… until then, the Lost could wreak havoc on the Federation.

The Federation… stirrings of anger swirled in the Queen's heart. If the Lost were able to throw them into confusion and disarray, that was well. However, if the Lost destroyed them… that would be unacceptable.

Revenge would be hers, in time. It must fall to her to eliminate the Federation pestilence from the galaxy. The Federation had bloodied her, wiped out the transwarp nexus in the Delta Quadrant. Though that had not truly been her at the time, the new Queen felt it as if it were her own experience.

The face of the new Queen looked out over the sleeping drones inside her ship, maternal warmth flooding over the mottled face. A mottled face that, without the slight cosmetic alterations and certain mechanical accoutrements that made her Borg, could have easily been portrayed in the mirror of Admiral Kathryn Janeway.


	3. Three

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Thanks to SuperSanne for sending in the review! The more you people send, the more I write!

Here's the next installment...

* * *

**Star Trek: Final Hour**

Lieutenant Tom Paris was awoken in the middle of the night by the chirping of his communicator. B'Elanna, of course, stayed sound asleep. He groaned, slapping around until he hit the lights, and rolled over into the blinding glow.

He tapped the button for communications access.

"Lieutenant Paris here," he said, or at least, gurgled.

"Tom," came an authoritative female voice, and Tom immediately woke up completely. "I need your help, Tom."

* * *

When Tom and B'Elanna arrived at Admiral Janeway's office roughly twenty minutes after she had paged him in his room, he was still as confused as he had been at first as to why she would be calling him.

"Admiral," Tom said as Kathryn rose from behind her massive desk to greet them. "Reporting as ordered." B'Elanna tossed him an amused glance.

"Thank you, the both of you," Kathryn said in a relieved voice. She looked tired, with dark circles encompassing the whole of her lower eyelids, and a weary expression in her eyes. "We have something of a situation on our hands." She chuckled mirthlessly. "Actually, it's more than just a _situation_." She leant back on the edge of her desk and stared right at Tom and B'Elanna and sighed. "The anti-peace faction on the Council has seized power by a coup d'etat."

"What?" B'Elanna demanded, posting hands on hips, voice cracking with repressed Klingon fury.

"Three hours ago, at 0305, persons unknown arrived at the spacedock and stole a ship from there." She paused and Tom caught a flash of pain in her eyes. "They stole _Voyager_."

"What?" Tom echoed B'Elanna.

Kathryn held up a hand. "From there, they proceeded to query and engage every ship in Earth's vicinity that would not side with the anti-peace Council faction." She looked down at the floor. "Those who did not fall into line were destroyed with ease."

B'Elanna looked shocked. "The transphasic torpedoes."

"If they can destroy Borg, Starfleet technology is no match for them," Kathryn said, grief visible behind her gaze. "But that's not our only problem." She reached for her terminal and spun it toward B'Elanna's field of vision. "Three days hence, the _U.S.S. Odin_ self-destructed on the outer limits of our known space. They left behind traces of two types of technology." She pointed at the screen.

B'Elanna leaned closer. "Borg nanoprobes and…" she frowned, and then her face took on a horrified cast. "Fluidic DNA structures unique to Species 8472."

"Wait a minute," Tom interjected, frowning. "That's not possible. The Borg were at war with Species 8472. The Borg were trying to exterminate them, for God's sake. They'd never join forces."

"No," Kathryn said ominously. "They wouldn't."

B'Elanna threw a sharp glance at Kathryn. "You think the Borg assimilated them? But they can't do that… we know that."

"Do we?" Kathryn said in a tired voice as she retreated behind her desk. "How do we know the Borg haven't gotten a new Queen and assimilated some bit of technology that helped them along to that point?" She shook her head sadly. "There are so many unknowns."

Tom rubbed a hand back through his hair. "So… why are we here?"

Kathryn turned off the terminal and reached under her desk and produced three hand phasers. She gave one each to Tom and B'Elanna. "I've been saved from the fate of the other Starfleet officers who don't side with the anti-peace activists because I head Borg operations. But that won't last. We need to get off this planet. For that, we need a ship."

Tom thrust the phaser in the waistband of his pants. "You want us to steal you a ship?" His voice was incredulous.

"No," Kathryn smiled wanly. "I want you to fly the ship as soon as Tuvok and Chakotay get back with it."

* * *

The _U.S.S. Leonardo_ was a _Nebula_-class ship, of about half the dimensions of the large _Galaxy_-class starships. Kathryn hoped it was a good omen that it had been under the guidance of _Voyager_'s holographic Leonardo Da Vinci that she had first defeated both Borg and Species 8472.

Tuvok was already on the bridge, as was Chakotay, when she, Tom, and B'Elanna arrived from the surface of Earth. Tuvok was standing at his customary place at Tactical, and Chakotay quickly abandoned his post at Helm.

"Admiral on the bridge," Chakotay said firmly, and everyone snapped to attention, including a tall, blond woman with medium length hair that Kathryn didn't immediately recognize. Then, she took in the straight, imperious stance and smiled.

"Seven," she breathed.

The blond human woman smiled faintly, as if it were an unfamiliar action. "Annika, now, Admiral."

Kathryn smiled again. "Of course," she said. "Well, let's get moving. We don't want to be here when _Voyager_ finally arrives."

"Yes ma'am," Tom fervently said, and practically leapt into the helm controls. "Full warp as soon as we clear the atmosphere and gravity attraction."

"Engage, Mr. Paris."

* * *

The nebula that they found after about three hours of uninterrupted travel at sustained warp 6.5 was large enough and obscuring enough that the _Leonardo_ could easily hide amongst the gaseous clusters and dust conglomerations. The compact Starfleet vessel settled down amidst a particularly spectacular deuterium-243 dust cloud. The metallic contents made sensors useless, and the reflective properties would help divert physical attention.

The entire crew of 26 met on the holodeck, in a simulation of a Starfleet conference room. Kathryn looked out over the small crew to run a vessel normally requiring up to 300-375 crewmembers for its function, and tried to identify the ones she knew.

Chakotay. First officer for over seven years on _Voyager_, and one of her closest friends on that lonely little vessel. He was the one she could count on, the one who always was there to back her up if she was thinking straight. The incident with the Borg and Species 8472 came to mind, but she pushed that away.

Tuvok. The tall, slim Vulcan had been with her for even longer than Chakotay. She couldn't recall the last time that Tuvok had made a serious mistake. She hated to drag him back into action after just a few short months home, and only two of those with his family, but it had to be done.

Tom and B'Elanna. Their relationship had surprised her at first, but now, it seemed as if it had always been there. Tom was the best pilot she knew, and B'Elanna would keep the ship able to fly to Tom's liking.

Seven- no, Annika. She had changed so much from the Borg drone they had taken with them those three years ago. Kathryn was unsure how well she still knew S- Annika, but a more determined and capable woman, she did not know.

Harry, the latecomer. He had boarded just after Kathryn had, arriving on the bridge only after the _Leonardo_ had made warp. His recent promotion to Lieutenant left him glowing with pride, but still the same solid, obedient Harry Kim she'd known from the start.

She realized someone was missing.

"The Doctor," she murmured to herself. He had been left on _Voyager_ as a sort of guardian, should things go wrong. Kathryn had made efforts to visit him if she could, and each time he expressed a need for them to make a decision about him soon. It was too late for regrets, now.

"Admiral?" Chakotay said softly, questioningly.

Kathryn shook herself mentally. She needed to appear strong, decisive. Without respect, a captain did not truly command. Without strong action, a captain had no respect.

"Thank you all for joining me here," Kathryn began, gesturing for all of them to sit down. They did so in unison. "I know it must have been hard to make the decision to abandon friends and loved ones back on Earth, but it was necessary."

All of the crew nodded slowly. Being officers of discipline and character, they had known exactly what they were getting into signing on with the now renegade Admiral Janeway, legendary though she was.

"I think it only fair to fully inform you what we are up against. Some of you were only recruited through my first and second officers, Mr. Chakotay and Mr. Tuvok," she indicated the Amerindian and the Vulcan with a hand motion. Kathryn turned to the wall screen behind her and punched in several buttons.

The image of floating debris sprang to life, and Kathryn quickly ran through her summary of the loss of the _U.S.S. Odin_ and the connection to the Borg and Species 8472.

"The presence of both races' devices leaves me ill at ease when I consider how chaotic the Federation is at this point," Kathryn concluded her presentation. "My plans up till now have simple involved getting free of the warmongers and admirals who now control Starfleet, but I have not considered how to deal with this Borg threat. My hope is that other Federation loyalists will flee and join us."

A Bajoran Kathryn didn't know raised her hand halfway down the long table. "Lieutenant Noran Perys, Admiral." She swept a lock of black hair back over her ear. "What about the Klingon Empire, Admiral? They are our allies, yes?"

Kathryn acknowledged the point with a nod. "The Klingon Empire may prove to be an ally in this strange situation, but due to recent Empire-Starfleet disputes, I'm not counting on getting aid from them."

A human male spoke up loudly. "Admiral, the last time you faced the Borg, you had the advantage of surprising weapons _and_ _Voyager_ at your disposal. How is this ship supposed to be able to fight the Borg?"

Kathryn shot him a thin smile. "I was hoping someone would ask that question." She tapped another few keys, and an in-depth schematic of the _Leonardo_ appeared in midair over the conference table. "The _Leonardo_ has a registry of NX-2015. X for Experimental. This, for the past four months, has been the Borg Tactical Response Office's major project in the continuing preparations against Borg invasion." She pointed to several key anomalies in the otherwise traditional _Nebula_-class starship design. "Transphasic torpedoes have replaced photon torpedoes in the main bays, or have started to. Various shielding and scanning concepts have been tested here, and even the phasers have undergone substantial modifications."

A murmur of wonder started to run around the table.

"However," Kathryn said quickly and firmly. "90 of the _Leonardo_'s offensive weaponry is still only half-ready or half-built. The defenses are almost up to specifications, but the weapons need much more work. I'm trusting that we can work together and get them complete in time to use."

Kathryn pointed at her officers. "For chain of command purposes, I'm now going introduce the senior staff. These are all people I trust implicitly and I expect you will grow to trust their judgment as well."

She waved Chakotay to rise. "This is Captain Chakotay. He will be my first officer. He is also in charge of duty rosters and minor disciplinary actions."

Next she indicated Tuvok. "Commander Tuvok is our Security Chief and Tactical officer. He will be choosing three of you as he sees fit to comprise his Security team, which will perform all the duties a Security department fulfills on a fully crewed warship." Tuvok bowed his head slightly in acquiescence, and benefited the rest of the crew with a level stare.

"B'Elanna Torres is our Chief Engineer. She keeps this ship running, but anyone with engineering experience needs to talk to her."

Tom's cocky smile showed as she pointed at him. "Lieutenant Tom Paris will be piloting _Leonardo_. He will need an auxiliary helmsman. If you have that ability, talk to him." Kathryn smiled. "He's also married to B'Elanna and has a child currently on leave with her parents, so he's off limit to any of our female crew members, who, for reasons unknown, may find him attractive."

"Admiral," Tom said in indignation. She ignored him with a smile.

"Lieutenant Harry Kim is our Ops officer, or Science Officer, if you prefer. He will also be working closely with Annika Hansen." Kathryn waved Annika to her feet. "For those of you who do not know, Annika was once Seven of Nine. She was a Borg drone since Wolf 359, and will be doing mainly astrometrics work, computer analysis, and Borg tactical analysis."

Kathryn glanced down at the floor. "Unfortunately, we have no EMP on board this ship at the moment, so unless one of you has medical training, we will be without a Medical Officer." No one raised a hand. "I would suggest that you all get some primary medical information off the computer and study it. This will not be an easy fight." She put up both hands in a defensive posture. "This may seem like a lot to absorb, but I plan on staying in this nebula for at least two more days. Use that time to adjust yourselves to this new situation." She glanced around, and saw only respect and determination around the room, the same determination that had marked _Voyager_ seven years ago. The focus that said they knew the odds were stacked millions to one against them, and they did not care. It brought a lump to her throat.

"Dismissed."

It took less than a minute for the crew to file mutely out of the holodeck, leaving Kathryn standing alone in the replication of a life she'd left behind when it crumbled around her ears. The lump in her throat swelled, and she turned to leave.

"That was a remarkable speech, Kathryn," said a smooth, obsequious voice from behind her.

She spun quickly, cursing mentally as she did so. "Q," she said distastefully. "How wonderful of you to attend."

The omnipotent being smiled in a way he probably imagined was charming. "My, aren't we being sarcastic today, Kathryn. And I thought our relationship was doing so well." Q smiled again, resplendent in a new Starfleet uniform, with full Admiral's rank pips on the collar.

"Get to the point, Q," Kathryn said with a growl. "Either that or get off my ship."

"Tut, tut, Kathryn," Q said with a waving finger, eyes twinkling. "Such venom in your voice. One might think you were upset to find me here."

Kathryn sighed. "What do you want?"

Q pressed a hand over his heart. "I merely want to check to see if everything is all right with you. I couldn't resist dropping in on old friends." He chuckled hollowly.

"Q…!"

Q frowned in a sulky manner. "Humans can be such bores at times," he remarked carelessly to the air. "I just thought I'd come to tell you how nicely you've screwed things up for your Federation."

"I've-? Q, your omnipotence must be failing you." Kathryn already felt tired, and having an annoying godlike alien who wouldn't go away on her hands would wear thin very quickly. "I had nothing to do with the coup."

"Oh, the coup," Q said scornfully. "How ethnocentric you humans are. All large problems must be about your own inner struggles." He leaned closer, voice growing ominous. "It's the Borg you should be worried about." His face grew introspective. "I remember Picard being very much like this. How it galled him to admit I was right." Q winked at Kathryn. "You would do well to imitate him in that regard." His gaze turned far away. "Though of course, you never will…"

"The Borg are a problem, I know that, Q," Kathryn said, weariness edging into her voice. "But if _Voyager_ alone can hold off the might of the Borg, the entire Federation can." She knew the words were false bravado, but she hoped Q would just go away if she were stubborn enough.

"Oh, the arrogance," said Q with a clap of his hands. "They're not just Borg anymore. Or at least not all of them. The Borg still remain of course, but there are some who have changed… oh, yes indeed."

"Changed?" Kathryn's interest was peaked. "How?"

"Oh, surely you don't want me to reveal the whole puzzle?" Q said in a reprimanding tone, smiling humourlessly at the same time. "It would take all the fun out of it." And he winked out with a flash of light.

"Q!" Kathryn yelled to the air, but knew it was no use. The throb of a familiar headache began behind her eyes. It was going to be a long few days.

* * *


	4. Four

Thanks to Dan Halliwell and SuperSanne, whose support is much appreciated!

* * *

**Star Trek: Final Hour**

B'Elanna blew out a long breath as she looked into the innards of the main phaser control relay. Admiral Janeway's crew must have been working around the clock to make as many modifications to the standard Starfleet equipment as they did. Half this stuff she didn't completely recognize even after Admiral Janeway showed her the specs.

"Where to start?" she wondered aloud to herself. Admiral Janeway had told her that a lot of the work that had been done on the phasers was based upon Seven of Nine's original work on the original _Delta Flyer_, and also in part on the transwarp field-based destruction of the transphasic torpedoes on board _Voyager_.

The major components of a standard phaser bank were all here, but the frequency modulators were tuned for denser wavelengths than B'Elanna had ever seen on a phaser before. Also, some unfamiliar diamond-shaped devices had been linked to each of the secondary conduits that let the energy bleed off to the actual phaser firing points themselves. She guessed that those were the field generators for whatever transphasic modifications had been made to the firing systems.

"Lieutenant?" came a voice from behind her. B'Elanna started and smacked her ridged forehead on the open access panel. Stifling a curse, she turned around.

Seven stood calmly behind her. B'Elanna checked herself. No, it was not Seven of Nine anymore, but Annika Hansen. Human. She was Borg no longer.

"Annika," B'Elanna sighed, hissing slightly as she rubbed her forehead. "You gave me a fright." She stood up slowly from her crouch beside the phaser control relay, inwardly gritting her teeth at the pain from cramped muscles. She dusted her uniform reflexively. "So, what brings you down here?"

A tentative smile appeared on her face. It had the half-trained look of someone who didn't quite know how to use expressions. "I was told by the Admiral that my expertise in Borg technology could be helpful to you here."

B'Elanna groaned. "You can say that again. Half this stuff is years beyond what Starfleet is thinking of." She turned back to the phaser relay. "Did you ever understand this transphasic stuff that…" she thought for a second, "the _other_ Admiral Janeway brought us?"

Annika knelt down beside her. "It bears a similarity to the fields emitted by a transwarp drive, and also to the slipstream drive that the _Dauntless_ utilized." She peered at the field generators wired to the phasers. "The major difference is that the warping energy is utilized in a radically different manner."

B'Elanna nodded slowly, once more engrossed in the problem. "That's pretty much what I'd guessed so far." She pointed to the field generators again. "I think the original intention of the Admiral's engineers is that these transphasic generators be used to increase the standard phaser damage at high frequencies."

Annika frowned, the expression eerily similar to the Borg she once had been. It sent a chill up B'Elanna's spine. "I do not believe that would be successful."

B'Elanna smiled. "Oh, good, someone agrees with me."

Annika turned to B'Elanna. "I do not think that phaser energy would be compatible with the warping field of a transwarp generator."

B'Elanna shook her head. She withdrew from the phaser relay and went to a wall screen. There, she punched in a few commands, and schematics and simulations appeared abruptly. "I thought about the problem, and I think I may have a clue, though I have no idea how to accomplish it."

Annika came up to the screen, curiosity showing on her face. "What is that?"

B'Elanna zoomed the diagram in on the main deflector dish. "In our first battle with Species 8472, you created a pulse from the main deflector dish which created a temporary quantum singularity. The energy for that blast is not entirely different from the warping field used by the transphasic energy generators."

"You wish to use the deflector as a weapon?" Annika asked, sounding confused. "I feel compelled to remind you that the _Enterprise-D_ attempted that against a Borg vessel once before, and the results were… less than effective."

"Not just the deflector," B'Elanna said with a smile, her brain racing as she calculated the power requirements. Yes, it just might work. "What I'd _like_ to do is fire a transphasic field pulse at the same time as a burst of the phasers, targeting the same point."

Annika frowned again. "You are trying to accelerate the rate of destruction with the transphasic pulse?"

"As well as do structural damage with the warping field, yes."

"Will it work?" Annika asked skeptically.

B'Elanna shrugged. "If you've got any more ideas, you're welcome to give me better ones."

Annika turned to look at the gaping phaser relay. "As a matter of fact…" she said slowly.

* * *

Kathryn held the meeting of her senior staff at 0500 hours on the second day of their skulking in the nebula clouds. This time she was able to hold the meeting in the conference room of the _Leonardo_.

She settled in with her coveted mug of black coffee just as B'Elanna skidded in, the last to arrive. Everyone looked up at the Chief Engineer as she practically threw herself into a chair two seats down the table from Kathryn's spot at the head.

Suppressing a smile, Kathryn took another sip of her coffee and cleared her throat. "As you know, I'm not overly fond of long, boring meetings, so I'll keep this quick and to the point." She gestured at Tuvok. "Commander?"

Tuvok bowed his head in her direction. "I have chosen my Security team and logged the appropriate details with the ship's computer. The duty roster will consist of two of them making regular patrols at all times." He glanced down at a PADD he held, raising one eyebrow. "We have also locked access to certain non-essential decks, as we require little space for 26 crewmen."

"Which decks?" Kathryn asked him.

Tuvok consulted his PADD again. "Decks 12 through 15, and 22-23. All other decks contain some essential materials. However, the living quarters on decks 12 to 15 are unnecessary, and the recreational areas on 22 and 23 are in excess of crew needs. Three holodecks are currently operational, and that will more than fill the necessary recreational time."

"Very well," Kathryn said, sipping her coffee again. "B'Elanna? How is the maintenance coming?"

The half-Klingon engineer seemed excited as she stood up and practically bounced over to the wall screen of the conference room. She brought up a diagram of the phaser relays.

"Annika and I have done quite a bit of work on the phaser banks, Admiral," B'Elanna began. "We ended up actually considerably modifying the original intent of your office's engineers, Admiral." She sounded somewhat apologetic.

Kathryn smiled again. "No need to be sorry, B'Elanna," she said. "This ship wasn't intended to be ready for another four months. That was preliminary hypotheses."

B'Elanna nodded, and then began pointing at various details of her diagrams. "My original idea was to run the transphasic pulses through the deflector dish, since they won't really combine well with the phaser relays." She winced. "Annika eventually figured out that the crossing of the beams like that might produce some backlash which we really didn't want."

"What did you do instead?" Chakotay asked.

B'Elanna turned back to the diagrams. "The original Borg Tactical Response Office engineers had wired the transphasic generators onto the relay conduits that transferred energy to the firing points for the phasers." She hit another button, and the diagram changed. "What we've done is switch it around so that the transphasic generators are not injecting the conduits with energy, they're filling the conduits."

"Excuse me?" Kathryn said, having lost the engineer about the time she started talking about the deflector dish.

"It's like this: the phaser discharges energy into the conduits to move to the firing points. As it moves along, it has to fight to get through a sort of 'sea' of transphasic energy. We've projected that the phaser energy will 'drag' transphasic energy particles along as they get caught inside the gaps of the phaser energy frequency."

Tuvok raised an eyebrow again. "An appropriate analogy might be that the transphasic energy is the mortar which will hold the bricks of the phaser energy 'wall' together."

B'Elanna nodded excitedly. "That's it exactly. We can even, within a certain frequency range, adjust the frequency of the phasers to fool Borg adaptations."

Kathryn frowned. "Can you adjust the frequency of the transphasic energy as well?"

B'Elanna hesitated. "I don't think it would be advisable in combat, Admiral," she said. "The conduits would probably have to be adjusted manually."

Kathryn nodded slowly to herself. Unfortunate news, but the progress more than made up for it. "Any other maintenance details?"

B'Elanna consulted her data. "We've slaved most of the central controls to the few bioneural packs we were able to scavenge, and set up several automated subroutines to keep the computers working." She looked at Kathryn. "As it is, though, control of the _Leonardo_ will be tricky."

Kathryn nodded. She had accepted that fact. "Weapons?"

"Well, we have 13 transphasic torpedoes in the main launch bays, as well as 7 photon torpedoes." She brought up another diagram. "The shielding is just about as good as it gets. Your engineers made some inventive modifications to the multi-phasic shields, and I think we might be able to set up a few backup layers to give an attacker some surprise."

Chakotay asked, somewhat reluctantly, "Will she be able to fight _Voyager_ if we have to?"

The entire room fell silent.

B'Elanna hesitated. "I wouldn't want to bet on the outcome, sir," she finally said.

* * *

Three hours later, at 0800, the _Leonardo_ prepared to move out of her concealment in the nebula. All 26 of her crew were at battle stations; due to the obscuring gas clouds, they had no idea what to expect once they got out of their hiding place. They could very well emerge to find Borg vessels in ambush.

"Red alert," Kathryn said as she settled into the center chair of the _Leonardo_'s bridge. The slightly more old-fashioned design of the _Nebula­_-class ship was so very different from the sleek efficiency of _Voyager_. She missed her ship. "All hands, prepare for possible battle." She gave a miniscule nod to Tom.

"Aye, Captain," he said, turning to his controls. "Moving out of the nebula, full impulse."

Chakotay tapped his arm controls. "All stations report ready, Captain."

Everyone fell silent as the brilliant swirls of color slid by the main viewscreen, slowly thinning to allow stars to penetrate their concealing fog. Gradually, the last wisps of dust receded.

"Sensors coming online," Harry reported briskly. "Wait… Admiral, there's a ship out there!"

Kathryn sat up ramrod-straight, adrenaline shooting through her system faster than coffee ever could. Shivers cascaded down her spine. Who was it?

"Mr. Kim, identify it." She found herself issuing the order mechanically, eyes fixated on the viewscreen.

"A moment, Admiral," Harry said nervously. "It's a Federation starship, _Sovereign_-class."

"Raise shields," Chakotay snapped suddenly, and Tuvok obeyed instantly.

"Shields at maximum, phasers on standby." Tuvok raised one eyebrow. "What shall I do, Admiral?"

"Hold your fire, Mr. Tuvok," Kathryn gestured towards her first officer, the ball of ice in the pit of her stomach reacting strangely to how calmly she gave the order. "Mr. Kim?"

"She registers as…" Harry's mouth fell open. "The _Enterprise_, Admiral. They're hailing us."

"Onscreen."

The viewscreen immediately blinked out a view of a darkened bridge lit by red battle illumination and yet clouded by small wisps of smoke. At least one body lay on the floor, and the balding man who stood in the center of the bridge bore a streak of blood above his eyebrow.

"Admiral Janeway," Jean-Luc Picard said tiredly. "It's good to see you alive."

"You as well, Captain Picard," Kathryn said, relief flooding her belly with warmth. "How badly are you damaged?"

"Not irreparably, Admiral," Picard said.

"What happened?"

Jean-Luc Picard winced, as if at some inner pain that plagued him constantly. "It's the Borg, Admiral. They've invaded the Federation again."


	5. Five

Thanks so much to KrazyKatKrueger1428, whose multiple reviews were a great encouragement in writing this part!

* * *

**Star Trek: Final Hour**

The Doctor waited for exactly 5:00:00 hours before attempting to reactivate himself via the internal systems set up years before by Admiral Janeway and her crew. Not a standard feature on any starship, it evidently was not yet common knowledge. The Doctor supposed that everyone assumed the mobile emitter granted him freedom of activation.

He first utilized sickbay's interior scanners to determine that no other individuals were present in the sickbay. He didn't want to be caught by the hijackers again. It had been years since someone had tried to turn him off forcibly! The utter audacity of it!

As his holomatrix shimmered into resolution once again, he glanced around the darkened sickbay; vacant, he noted with relief. Hopefully the hijackers would not detect the subtle rerouting of power that activated his programming. If they did, he was doomed for sure.

He suddenly spotted a few crushed pieces of metal on the floor of the sickbay. Curious, he leaned closer.

A sudden pounding of dismay flickered through his holographic matrix. The mobile emitter had been destroyed! With that gone, his one advantage that might give him some capability of resistance against the hijackers had vanished.

He stood once more and looked around a sickbay that seemed colder and more forbidding than a Hirogen prison cell.

* * *

The conference room on board the _Enterprise- E_ was larger, but since the flagship of the Federation had sustained damage from Borg attacks, Captain Jean-Luc Picard, hero of the Federation, beamed over to Admiral Janeway's ship. It was a meeting of legends. One for his tenacity and dedication to the Federation's cause, the other for her groundbreaking work in the Delta Quadrant and against the Borg.

However, at the moment, both officers seemed merely weary.

Kathryn settled into the most comfortable chair in the _Leonardo_'s conference chamber, cradling a mug of coffee protectively in both hands. Picard, his uniform smudged by a few slight burns and rips in the fabric, took a seat opposite her. With him he had brought the white-skinned android Data, eight hundred quadrillion bits worth of computing power packed into a man-facsimile shape. Kathryn had invited Tuvok and Annika to join her side of the table, bringing her tactical and Borg expertise to the field.

"Captain," Kathryn began at once, feeling a heavy load settle on her shoulders. She brought the fingers of her left hand up to massage her temples. "It has been a long few days, so you'll excuse me if I skip the formalities. Commander Tuvok and Annika Hansen," she indicated her companions.

The aging captain gave them both a firm nod and leaned forward, steepling his fingers as he did so. "I'm very glad to find you here, Admiral. There were some of us who were afraid you had fallen in the coup, or worse, sided with the extremists." His voice was gruff but somehow not unpleasant.

"As I am glad to find you, Captain," Kathryn returned. "Again, excuse my forthrightedness, but you mentioned a Borg invasion?"

"Indeed," Picard said with a hint of anger lurking beneath his tone. His capture and transformation into Locutus were common knowledge among the peoples of the Federation, and Kathryn found herself amazed he did not seem even more furious than he was. "Mr. Data?"

The android stood and moved to the wall display screen. Inserting a data card, he rapidly punched a sequence of keys, and a frozen starfield was displayed. He turned back to the occupants of the table. "This is the visuals recorded by the _Enterprise_'s sensors, augmented by audio data from communications. This is four days ago." He looked at the screen. "Computer, play recording."

For several seconds there was only silence. Then, a beeping noise sounded in the background. Picard's voice spoke.

"Ensign, what is it?"

Another unfamiliar voice sounded. "Vessels approaching at high warp, sir. Configuration suggests Borg starships, sir."

"Red alert! All hands to battle stations!"

The familiar whooping of the alarms sounded in the background noise.

The ensign's voice emerged above the hubbub of the bridge. "Sir, all but one of the Borg ships have altered course. They're heading towards the Neutral Zone outposts."

"What about the last one, ensign?"

"Still on course for our position, sir."

"Very well." A pause. "Set phasers to rotating frequencies and ready quantum torpedoes. Shields to full. Aim for their engines."

"Firing range in three, two-"

The rest of the sentence was cut off by a blue burst of fire from the rapidly swelling image of the Borg vessel on the screen. It was an irregular oblong vessel with two prongs out to the side, one much smaller than the other.

The display vanished in fire.

Data flicked off the screen. "We managed to damage their engines and escape. We have been attempting to make contact with various Federation forces during our escape."

Picard resumed the floor. "Six Neutral Zone outposts have been wiped out, and over twenty ships have vanished from their assigned patrol sectors. It has all the characteristics of a scouting assault, preparing the way for an actual invasion."

Kathryn blinked several times. "What about the rest of the Federation that aligned itself with the extremists?"

Picard glowered at the mention of the traitorous faction. "They have taken fewer losses so far, but only because more outlying worlds have refused to bow to them. Once the invasion progresses, they will be hit hard."

Tuvok raised one black eyebrow. "What about the Klingons and Romulans?" he asked pointedly. "Are they facing a similar threat?"

"The Borg seek to subdue the Federation," Annika broke in with her solemn voice. "You- _we_- are an irritant to them, a nuisance that has taken far greater time than it should have to be eradicated. This must be corrected, in the Borg's minds."

Tuvok glanced at Annika. "We can suppose at least one thing from this information: that the Borg have indeed created a new Queen for themselves. Otherwise, there would be no impetus to attack, or indeed to _do_ anything."

"This is so," Picard agreed.

Kathryn groaned. "There are far too many problems to confront already. I didn't need a Borg invasion to top it all off."

"To what do you refer?" Data asked.

Kathryn blinked again. They hadn't heard? "Perhaps the information hadn't reached your ship yet," she said, turning to Tuvok. "Call up the data logs from the _U.S.S. Odin_."

Again, Kathryn watched the data scroll by, accompanied by the last panicked transmissions of the doomed vessel. When the reams of information had ceased to appear on the screen, Picard turned back to the table, face drawn and looking more weary than ever.

"What does this mean? Species 8472 also wishes to destroy us?"

"We don't know anything, as yet," Kathryn said. "We suspect, though the prospect is gruesome, that the Borg have learned how to assimilate Species 8472 and adapt their biology to theirs."

Data's eyes flickered. "That would be a significant advantage for the Borg."

"If that's true," Picard continued, his tone both horrified and fascinated at the same time, "they could destroy all of us without any resistance."

"But," Tuvok interjected, "I must point out that the Borg vessel you encountered, Captain Picard, was not augmented by Species 8472 biology. This seems to be a contradiction."

"One we're going to have to solve later," Kathryn said with finality. "I'd like to get moving. We can't sit this close to the invasion front for long."

Her communicator beeped at her. Stifling a sigh, she tapped and said, "Janeway here."

"Admiral, get out here now," Chakotay's taut voice came through the badge, tinny and small. "There's a Borg ship bearing rapidly on our position."

* * *

"Report," Kathryn said when she and the four others arrived on _Leonardo_'s bridge. The red lights of battle illumination already bathed the round chamber. Chakotay stood as she approached the center chair.

"There's no chance of evading it now, Admiral," he said, glancing at the viewscreen and the rapidly swelling dot that represented the Borg ship. "It's traveling at approximately warp factor 9.895."

"That is considerably faster than any Starfleet vessel in the quadrant," Data noted with some surprise in his eyes.

"Are our weapons online?" Kathryn asked as she sat in the Captain's seat.

Tuvok glanced at his board. "Torpedoes are ready, but phasers are not active or powered."

"We'll make do, then," Kathryn decided grimly. "Tom, prepare for evasive pattern Sigma-5, but wait for my order."

"Aye, aye, Admiral," Tom replied tightly.

The Borg vessel began to take shape in the main viewscreen.

"Admiral, have you warned the _Enterprise_?" Picard asked.

It was Chakotay who answered. "We told them as soon as we detected it. They're remaining in rear guard position for now."

"I'm sorry, but we can't drop shields to beam you over, Captain," Kathryn said to Picard. "You'll have to wait the battle out with us."

The Borg ship was a cube, a massive equally distributed chunk of circuits and dark metal, with no obvious means of propulsion and no obvious weapons emplacements. Its promise of certain destruction coupled with the seeming innocuousness was a bizarre contradiction.

The cube slowed as if hitting a patch of thick mud when it drew near enough to the two Federation ships to loom like a titan over them. For several seconds, all was silent except for the hoarse breathing of the bridge crew.

"We are Borg," a multilayered voice announced from the bridge communications system. "You will be assimilated. Resistance is futile."

"Like hell it is," Kathryn whispered, though she knew the Borg ship would not bother to listen to her retort. She raised her voice. "All weapons; fire!"

* * *

Admiral Burke was sitting brooding in _Voyager_'s ready room when the news arrived. The new Council had not seen fit to release any new crew or materials to them, and so, _Voyager_ sat languishing in outer Earth orbit, undercrewed and underprovisioned, while the new leaders rearranged their empire.

The stars had always fascinated him. It had seemed to him in his youth that each one was pure, crystal clear, and untainted. To discover that they were not, and what a loose, indecisive organization like the Federation was doing to them, was a huge disappointment to him. Nevertheless, he had fought his way up through the Starfleet ranks in an effort to change all of that. Now, he was.

He frowned at the viewports. The thick layers of glass distorted the stars slightly with reflections around their edges. It was an unsettling thought, but he did not know what to make of it.

The door sounded its entry chime.

"Come," he called, turning to stand and straightening his uniform.

The door hissed open and Commander Shelby stepped through, face grim. Burke hoped that it wasn't another episode like that hesitation over the _Destiny_'s destruction. They couldn't afford to hesitate, not know.

"What is it, Commander?" Burke asked impatiently. He saw that she was holding a PADD and reached for it.

She extended it to him. "We have something of a situation, Admiral," she said.

Burke looked down at the device. A stream of reports in small print raced by on the screen, and he slowed them down, glancing briefly at a synopsis of each one. At each one, his face grew darker.

"The Borg again?" he finally growled, handing the PADD back to Shelby.

"I'm afraid so, sir," Shelby said. "The Council is mobilizing whatever remains of the main fleet to go after the invaders. They'd like _Voyager_ to be in the vanguard."

Burke's lips curved into a thin smile. This was going to be fun.

* * *

To all readers, I will be out of the country on a school trip and unable to update for about 10-12 days. Keep the reviews coming, and I'll update as soon as I can after returning! Thanks go to: Daydream Omega, SuperSanne, Dan Halliwell, Little Janeway, and KrazyKatKrueger1428.

Sci-Fi Nerd


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